


Blood of the Dragonwolf

by Chilly_Wolf



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Jon Snow Kills the Night King, Marriage, Old problems, Pack Dynamics, Pack Life, Please give it a try, The Old Gods (ASoIaF), Time Travel, a lot left to imagination, im trying, new life, old life relationships, pack mates, time jumps, to do what i can for these characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chilly_Wolf/pseuds/Chilly_Wolf
Summary: Jon snow has lived many lives, gone to hell and back for the people of his life more than once. I cannot say its been a life worth living because each time the happiness is almost in his grasp before its snuffed out.This time will be the last, if he has to kill the Old God's themselves. He would kill the Night King and take his happy ever after with blood and ice.
Relationships: Arthur Dayne & Lyanna Stark, Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Jaime Lannister & Jon Snow, Jaime Lannister/Sansa Stark, Jon Snow & Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Arya Stark, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen
Comments: 35
Kudos: 150





	1. Waking the Dragonwolf

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try and finish this time line but I cannot say i will. If you embark on this journey with me know that I accept input but I don't appreciate nonhelpful comments. This is my story and i will go with it how I please and don't care if you agree or not. I feel the need to get this out and so I shall.

Jon Snow has had many names at this point many lives and standing at the edge of the wall once more he cannot help but reflect on when he woke up again not too long ago. 

His last memories before waking up were that of killing the Night king. Thrusting his sword into that frozen heart and feeling his own skin melt as the ice sword met his own. He could finally die and finally find peace. His family and his sisters were safe in the world, safe in their home and waiting for the future without any harm coming to haunt them.  
But as they say ‘we make plans and the Gods laugh’. 

The next time I woke it was in the middle of summer in the heat I was sweating instantly, the fresh memories and exhaustion taking its toll on the new body.

It takes me a minute to realize my surroundings but it’s the red keep, in the capital. Discontent with my surroundings, i'd rather have woken to Winterfell once more but it seems that it was not for this life. I have to dress but notice my clothing is that of black and red, of my father's house. Quickly dressing in black, it always was my color no matter my life, I assessed my surroundings. The chamber is nice but not as nice as royalty so I must still be a bastard in this life, by circumstance not marriage. I wonder if my mother lives in this one, she hasn’t in the other four but maybe just maybe. Although if I’m here I highly doubt it so, she would not have stuck around with my father after the war after losing her brother, father and so many lives to a pointless war. No if she was alive I have no doubt that I would be in Winterfell with the Stark family, not trapped in King's Landing. And I can only guess that Rhager had won once again, for he is the only one that ever seems to keep me here, even if he ignores the entire time.

Just as every other life I assume The Old Gods sent people back to help me, they always seem to only send back the main four. So Jamie, Sansa, Arya and Tormund; this far south only Ser Jamie is the one I can contact and if I am just the second prince I can’t call war to win. This fight must be on my own or with him; Either way the night king will not rise to power he will not slaughter my people on either side of the wall.

Leaving my room I noticed a distinct lack of guards, another sign that I am not Royal but I am by blood; Another sign that I am a part of but not a part of the family, not that these dragons ever felt like home. My northern bones ache for the cold, the fire of my blood not at a pitch to be used. I feel the urge to go home, to see Winterfell to make sure my family is safe. But I will have to wait until after I kill the night king again. A frustrating cycle begins again. I will not let it dominate my life this time I will kill him or he will kill me and that will be the end of this life. 

Walking along the corridor I marvel at all the dragon carvings, paintings telling the story of the Targaryen line. Every step feels like a thousand, every breath feels more forced, the remnants of my old life still hemorrhage my mind even if my body no longer feels it. The lack of scars is disconcerting, so too is the lack of muscle. I put my physical self about 16, Young and some muscle but not the warrior I was, though I guess it happens when you're no longer in your prime. Ser Jamie will change that when we start training again, he always does; Whether my first life or the fifth he’s the one that inspires my growth. True for a lot of it, it was a way to defeat him but growth is growth.

In this life Ser Arthur Dayne is probably still alive, still able to train me but I highly doubt I can get the sword of the morning to come on a suicide mission. He’d be too busy protecting his best friend, my father, the dragon king. 

That is the title once I held but not one that ever fit right. I was the White wolf, winter’s dragon, and bastard of Winterfell. I was the Lord Commander, King of the North and kneeler to the dragon queen. I was the Black Dragon, Winters bite, the Northern bastard‘s and of course blackfyre. Through all my lives I’ve had many names, even more nicknames but the ones I find fit the best were husband, white wolf, and dragon wolf. 

My wife, my life, and my little wolf are all the same person. I died for her many times and each time I rose more determined to save her, even if she never needed saving. My little wolf, my little sister, and my reason for living, even if my life had already expired. Most of the North thought that my Targaryen blood was the reason I felt these feelings for Arya but in truth it was more of the pack protecting its own. No matter what life I lead, no matter where I begin, she’s always been my pack, my mate. 

When I think about her, it always leads to the other pack mates. My other sister Santa, Jamie’s wife and how their struggle never seems to end either. He began as a sister fucker, and ended up concert to the north’s Queen or Lady of Winterfell. Husband to the red wolf, defender of Winterfell and her people. He became my best friend, other than Tormund of course. But he is the one person I can rely on that will always have the pack's interest at heart, no matter what life had thrown at him he was always loyal to those he cared about. True it was his downfall most of the time but the intentions were true much like myself.

Tormund was a great friend, a mentor and most of the time the little shove, or giant shove, I needed to get what was needed done. We always joke that without him I die, no matter how many times it was proven true. Without him as my giant red guardian I don’t think I'd ever have made it as far as I have, never killed the night king three out of four times; my wife taking the first kill. It doesn’t escape me that I used to put so much stock into the fact that she was my sister, but after so many lives, so many tries I’ve come to the realization that the heart wants what it wants. It does not care who we were born as but once it recognizes its match there’s no stopping. I fought against it two times and each time with life turned worse and worse before eventually I made my way back to her anyway.

Reaching the throne room I’m stopped at the door, and I cannot help but laugh at the irony of the situation. I’ve come to tell them I’m leaving and I am stopped at the door by the one man I need to take with me. 

Ser Jamie Lannister stood in front of me, white cloak standing at his back and was mocking us both. That cloak was meant to protect the innocent and only seemed to protect the ones who cause the most pain. It protected the mad king when it should have protected the queen and subjects from said King.

“You cannot go in there my prince, a trial is being held.” Ser Jamie’s face is one made of stone, not one emotion showing. 

“Who’s?” I ask, not able to recall such an event taking place but not surprised that I don’t. 

Memories tended to take more time to mold the old ones to the new. I’d recall all four former lives but remained in the dark about the current one. 

“Loras Tyrell has been accused of having relations with the same sex. The King has decided to make an example of him, so no one else falls under such a curse.”

I feel my face darken with anger “The King is a cunt, who is he to judge who someone loves? He destroyed the country with his obsession of the future and he couldn't see past what he wanted, even when it cost him his ‘love’.” I growl out not caring who heard me. 

Ser Jamie looked at me shocked but seemed to take in my eyes for a while before speaking. 

“You sound like a wolf, your Grace.” The words seem to be a test and I cannot help the smirk that I show in response.

“I’m known as the white wolf for a reason Ser.”

The tension leaks out of Jamie's shoulders at the news and I get one of his signature smirks.

“About damn time you show up! can’t stand being around these petty Royals anymore; you got a plan yet or?” he looked at me once more “how long has it been for you?”

“Woke up this morning, still a bit disoriented but I’m not allowing that son of a bitch to get more power than he already has. I was going to tell them I’m leaving for the night's watch in the morning, that should give me enough excuse to head north and after that I intend to kill him. Are you coming with?”

“ Always my king” he places his closer fist over his heart and rolls his eyes before saying “plus if your wife finds out I’ll let you go alone I’ll never sleep again.”

We both laugh and I feel the old connection to him sing before snapping into place. 

“ After everything we’ve seen together, my wife scares you?“

“ after everything we’ve seen together your wife is the only thing that scares me anymore besides maybe my own!“

“ how long has it been for you?“

“ I've been awake now for about eight years, Long enough to set straight the tangled relationship with my sister, and father. I may still be the white lion, but those two no longer have any sway over me. The king tried to take my hand for what I did to the former king, and the queen stepped in and said that I was acting under her orders. They tried to take my cloak but decided that I was better off paying for my crimes serving the family I had ‘ betrayed’. . It took years before Ser Arthur would even look me in the eyes, Ser Beristan even longer. But once I remembered my old life I felt all of the resentment meltaway. I live through much worse than I was dealing with this life. I made sure to father no children and wait faithfully from her way to finally be of age. Still have a few more years to go but at least now I have a purpose! Plus it will be a lot fairer of a fight with my sword hand firmly attached. It’ll come as no surprise that I follow you to the wall. Ever since I woke up I’ve become your shadow, no matter how many times I wanted to whack you over the head. It’s like you’ve been nothing but a little shit the entire time. Granted you’ve been a royal shit but before at least I could smack you without the risk of losing my hand, and no intention of parting with it this life.”

“So Im a handful this life?” I couldn’t help but smirk and laugh at the very idea. I spent so many of my lives just try not to be seen but the thought of me acting out is surprising, just what have I been made to endure this time around?

“ your father wanted you close, but didn’t seem to want you for anything else other than a reminder of what he lost. Those of royal status either ignore you or just pretend you don’t exist. This causes you to act out to get attention, I need attention. It even asked to visit your uncle Edward Stark more than once but each time you were denied because the king could not let you go. This causes Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan, and myself to take you under our wing for swordsmanship. Let your aggression get out on the field instead of in the throne room. You took to it like a fish to water no surprise there, but when you got better than your brother they made you stop. The second prince could not be better than the first born son in anything. . That’s when I started to teach you to fight dirty, to teach you that the winner of the fight decides how the fight went. A lesson that showed more and more when you learned about the rebellion. Robert Baratheon became a symbol to you, of what happens when the winning side is the only side that’s told. The opposite story of what you learned in the last life, The same characters with a different ending for most anyway. Oh I forgot the best part!”

“ which is?” I press absorbing the knowledge as fast as possible. 

“Your name is Damien in this life.” Jamie’s laughter was as silent as stone but it danced in his emerald eyes. 

“ Who the hell named me Damien!?!“ I demand not liking the name one bit. 

“ Your grandmother said it was better than the name your mother gave you. After all Damien Targaryen sounds a lot better than Jon Targaryen.”  
Jamie’s laughter only increased as my displeasure must have been showing on my face. 

“ I'd rather be a snow, but then again I never get what I want. At least that’s the common thread through all of my lives.”

“ lives, as in plural?“

“Aye, this will make number five and I remember them all. Judging from what you’ve said now I’m guessing you only remember one or two of them which in all honesty is not a bad thing. I sometimes wish I never remembered any of them but then I never learn my lessons. I might be a slow learner, but eventually the Gods get the lesson through my hard skull.”

“Well least I’m not the only one frustrated by your thick skull. And yeah I remember two of them, each one I was married to your sister Sansa. Each one I lost my hand, and each one I never felt worthy of her.”

“ You may not believe me now, or ever but she finds you worthy and in that case I will let you live to see her once again.”

“ you say that like we won’t be keeping each other alive anyway. I think men can go insane if enough people don’t believe them. And we have had quite the story even if we are the only ones That will ever hear it. I will go get preparations ready as soon as the trial has ended. I take the time to get used to your new life before it’s uprooted by your old one. Your grandmother has been the one who raised you, you at least owe her a goodbye even if no one else gets one.”

"Aye, sounds like I owe it to her, no matter her changing my name." I shrug before realizing I dont know where to find her. "Where?"

"Her favorite place is the Gardens, she should be there and if not then the royal apartments."

"Thanks Jamie"


	2. Red Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa wakes up

Sansa wakes with a jolt, her breath coming in gasps as she clenches her chest. Her last thought was of the cold engrossing on her as her child held her hand, her death bed filled with fur and mementos of her past life. Her golden lion had just passed and with a strangled breath she followed him into the unknown.

Waking in my childhood bedroom should have made me more shocked but after the last time it just made me more angry. I had just done all of this over again and now it looks like it will be another trip around the bend. Frustrated I check myself over to see where I've landed this time, last time I'd ended up in my nine year old self, but it seems this time I'm around 16. Past the age of childhood and entering womanhood, flowered recently but not enough to be married; father’s doing id bet. The extra clothes I use during my moon blood haphazardly tossed on the nightstand to be used soon or just finished using. 

My stomach cramps slightly and I sigh before pulling back the covers and see the blood staining my thighs. This was not something I missed when I grew older, but at least there is no risk of it freezing to me. That had been a funny morning with Jamie panicking when he found out. It brings a smile to my face as I clean myself up with the water left from last night and dress. Stripping the bedding I remember that I should call the maid in to help me, like a little girl that I am now. 

“Lady Sansa are you up?” I heard one of my maids call out before she opened the door.

“Yes, though these sheets need to be washed.” I sighed turning to the maid and unsurprised to see the shock on her face when she noticed me dressed.

I was quite the spoiled little girl when I was younger, and never saw a reason to do things on my own when I had people for that. It wasn't until my life turned to hell that I learned to rely on myself as much as i do now, it won't do to slip back into bad habits before winter arrives.

“Ah you should have let me do that!” the maid explained and quickly took the sheets from me.

I shrugged but relented and made my way out the door “I'm going to head to break my fast now, I hope i haven't set your day back too much with the sheets.”

“It's no trouble my lady.” She assured me in a nurturing tone, I feel bad about not remembering her name but I know it will come back eventually, once my memory sets with the current life events.

Walking in Winterfell’s walls once more had me feeling both at home and out of place. Id grown up with these sturdy grey stones and yet two lives I’ve left their safety for the south, only to once again return to their comforter. I would not make such a mistake again, not when this is exactly where my husband knows where to find me. I have no doubt that the old gods sent him back already, Jon too but I wonder if Arya is back yet or not? I know she was the first one back in our previous life and I cannot recall enough of this life to notice a difference, just yet.  
I marvel at the great hall once I enter, its decked out in all the glory winterfell has to offer and it immediately has my hackles rising in defence. Nothing good ever comes from this type of celebration this early in life. I feel the cold race down my spine when I think of what happened this morning, my moon blood plus all of the decorating must mean my mother has finally convinced my father that they needed to look for a husband for me. Arya too probably being as she is only a year younger than me, and why waste a good party on one daughter when you can combine it for both of them?

“Sansa dear!” Mother exclaimed, waving me over to the table.

Mother sat with Father, Robb, Bran and Rickon while Arya sat with her back facing me. I felt my breath catch when meeting my father’s eyes, I'd never forgiven myself for his death, young as I was it still was my fault. All because I wanted a prince to call my own, a vain dream that ended in so much tragedy in all our lives, never again will I put myself in front of the needs of the pack.

“Good morning Mother, Father” I force myself to greet, not lingering more than I already have. I sit next to Arya and feel the starres it causes but pay them no mind. If they wanted to comment then they would have to do so out loud.

“Arya, Robb, Rickon and Bran how are your mornings going so far?” I question purposefully making Arya the first one I ask and I know the old her would appreciate and recognize the change in me. If she was awake then this would let her know I was as well without the others thinking we’d gone mad.

“I was freezing when I woke,” Arya said, causing my eyes to water. I wasn't alone! “Felt like time was passing without me.”

Father seemed surprised at this and questioned her about it “How were you cold child? Did you leave your window open again?”

“Yes father,” she acknowledged, nodding her head in his direction while gripping my hand under the table, I squeezed back relief rising like a tide.

“See to it that you shut it next time! Won’t do to have you catch a cold before the royal visit!” Mother exclaimed sounding frustrated at her antics, which to be honest was probably true.

“Royal visit?” Bran asked, sounding lost but not too interested and I was so relieved to see the wonder in his eyes when he looked around again. The three eyed raven nowhere to be seen and id chain the boy to the ground myself before I let him get hurt climbing any towers. Not that my jamie would be fucking Cersi in this lifetime, i’d castrate him myself if Arya or Jon didnt get to him first.

Where was Jon anyway? He was normally the first one in to break his fast, if he wasn't here already then where was he?

“Prince Aegon and his family are coming to Sansa’s ball! Can you believe it? Our sansa could end up being queen!” mother exclaimed, sounding extremely happy.

All i felt was horror, i would never be queen of the south! I only plan on moving west if I marry, not anywhere else! Prince Aegon? Wait did Robert not win the war in this life? That means Jon grew up with his birth family! That's wonderful, did his mother survive too?

“What about Jon?” I question wanting to know what happened to him in this life and I felt Arya’s nails dig into my wrist and wince in pain.

“Who’s Jon honey?” Father questioned looking confused and I felt cold dread shoot down my spine, what was happening.

“The Small Jon!” Arya volunteered trying to save my blunder.

Mother’s face twisted in disgust before she quickly put down a mask to cover her true feelings, “well of course the northern lords and heirs will be here as well! But the prince won't be able to get you out of his head once he sees you! Your beauty is too precious to leave in the North.”

“If you ever feel uncomfortable I want you to come to me no matter what! Is that understood?” Father demanded and I felt his love overwhelm me.

“Me too” Robb made sure to meet my eyes and I felt tears prickle.

How long has it been since I felt safe and protected from the world?

Nodding, I stop myself from sniffling and focus on my food.

I’ll have to get Arya alone and see what the plan is, she’s always had a plan, no matter how little she knows and two heads are better than one.

One thing for sure though; The dragons are coming to the wolf den, let’s see how they like a taste of Winter.


	3. North of the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short,very shot chapter with Tormund and the freefolk.

The years I’ve waited for the pretty crow to come back seem to be just a passing phase. Watching him grow once again into the King he was, felt like a circle completing itself. 

We stand beside him, fighting the white walkers, clearing a path to the Night King as well as we can and I feel my blood sing. This was it, lifetimes of running and fighting ended with this one. I wouldn’t be back after I fal in this life, Giant’s Bane pups to carry on my name, my story that of songs the tribe sings at night. 

With a flash my eyes are blinded, the white light and sounds of bodies crumbling filling my gut with victory! 

I howl my joy and rush to pretty crow’s side. 

“You did it!” 

“Aye, it’s done.” He pants blood seeping through his many wounds and a smile on his face. 

“Finally!” The old lion sighs, blood seeping through his torn clothing as well. 

We’d better get changed or near a fire soon, the true North won’t thank us with anything other than her icy breath. 

Two years of searching in this life, and now it was time to live!

~~~~A days ride from the Wall~~~~~

“Should you need us, Pretty Crow, just send your ravens and we shall be there. You’ve earned our loyalty and have the true North in you.” I clasp his shoulders before bringing him into a hug. 

“Don’t let the South Swallow you whole.” I caution having already seen it in three lives. I would not go south with him again for it was not my place but should he ever need me I would be the roaring guardian he needed me to be. 

“Thank you Tormund.” Jon squeezed me back and I felt his hand slap my back with the strength that he had grown into. 

The pretty crow was no longer as pretty as he once was, his shoulders had expanded with muscles, covered in scars as the rest of him. He now stands shoulder to shoulder with me, his strength matching my own, and his wild hair still the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. His eyes are still as sharp as his Valerian steel sword, cool dark grey. He was a fine man, eight and ten years old and as grounded as the white trees of the old gods. 

The old lion, not so old now but it was still so fun to fuffle his feathers, stood ever faithful at Jon’s side. No one would hurt the pretty crow so long as this lion stood tall, and I felt comfort with the thought. 

Jon may be going south of the wall but he would not journey further than his home, Winterfell. 

Watching them ride back to the crow’s nest was bittersweet. 

They had spent two full years together, hunting, surviving and relying on each other. He came a boy, not for the first time, and was leaving a man, one that should never be reckoned with. Those in the south would no doubt fear what he’s become, all those but the little she Wolf who he ran to. She no doubt test his metal, strengthening it as she would her own. No matter what those two would fight together, as they have forever. 

I feel the grip of winter ease into that of our normal, but can’t tear my eyes away until I no longer see the horses, I’d see those two again before my time has come I know it. 

Would he have pups of his own next time? Thinking of the hunger and fire that burned in both of their veins I have little doubt. 

“Tormund, we’re leaving.” Val called and I turned to my people. This was my home and we may have lost many but we would survive as we always have. 

Fighting and Fucking to our hearts content.


	4. She wolf of Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We visit Arya
> 
> The beginning is a little rough but I Couldn’t decide how to rewrite it so I left it and will probably re-visit later.

Time has been hard to think on these last few years, I woke to a younger me, sent letters with no reply until three years ago. 

You are mine and I am yours.~ little wolf. 

Each one the same and each one unanswered until the faithful day I got a single reply. 

Once I’ve ended this, I’m coming home~ white wolf. 

On that day I truly had hope, I left my bed chamber and felt the hope and happiness radiate on my features. He was finally awake and he would end the cursed cycle before returning to me. 

Now all I had to do was wait, again. 

I hate waiting. Trying to focus I head to the training yard, avoiding the Septa again and grab my sword. Jon may not have been able to give me one this time around but I had it forged instead to be just like my old Needle. 

Mahalik wasn’t happy about it but I reminded him that it would look worse if I had to go outside the castle to get one and who knows what kind of price they would demand out of a twelve year old girl?

He completed the sword with a hidden smile and warning that he was going to my lord father the moment I left. 

I nodded and went on my way, father allowed it once he surely would again. 

“Why do you have a sword?” Robb’s voice cut thru the forest and I instantly froze, sword outstretched in a thrust. 

“Because mother said to practice!” I yelled back, resuming my technique with smooth motions. 

“Really? Cause I remember her saying you needed to work on-“

“My needle work!” I finished brightly and pause to show him the sword “meet Needle.”

He throws his head back letting out deep laughter. 

“Mother won’t be happy.” He cautions but make no real move to stop me or go away. “Might as well teach you what I can before you are punished.”

He pulls out a training sword, takes a stance and waits. 

Grinning I also take a stance and soon we are crossing blades. 

“If we get caught I’m blaming you,” he teases as we dance around each other “you are really quite good though.” 

I fake a left before smacking his right flank “why does that sound like we are going to keep at it?” I tease ducking under one of his swipes. 

“You need a teacher,” he reasons “and I need to practice with someone other than theon.”

I growl at the mention of Greyjoy and swing a little harder than intended landing a hard thunk against Robb’s thigh. 

“See!” He reasons hissing in pain “I’ll only get so good with practicing on the same people. We both could use the outlet!”

“But I’m to blame when we get caught by father?” 

“Yep!” He pops the p “I’m the heir after all, I can’t do anything wrong!”

“Bullshit!” I yell and we both stop before laughing our asses off. 

We break apart and I restart my stance and dare him forward. 

“If I’m already going to get in trouble might as well go all the way in!”

Robb just laughed and lunged again. 

*****Sansa Wakes up*******

The red wolf is back! Finally! I need someone to talk to and pretending I’m just a little girl is making me lose my mind. 

Rushing to Sansa’s room that night I felt relief thicken in my throat as I push my feelings down. Similarly to how I did at breakfast when she slipped about Jon. Granted she hadn’t known but it still felt like a dagger into my stomach, which I do remember getting so I know my stuff. 

“My Queen” she whispered and I Swiftly turned and rolled my eyes. 

“Shut up Stupid!!” 

We both stand our ground before rushing forward and I almost cry out in relief when she squeezes a little too tight. 

“I’ve missed you, big sister.” I whisper and bury my head into her shoulder much like Nymeria does with Lady. 

“I’ve missed you too, I don’t know how long you’ve been back but I’m so proud of you!” She tightens her arms briefly before letting me go and gesturing to the bed. 

Sitting down I bounce a little unable to help myself and giggle when Sansa does the same. 

“So catch me up, what’s happening this time around?”

“I’ve been back about 4 years now, Jon came back or he replied about three years ago. He just said he would end this then come home.” I sniffles, long use to showing weakness to Sansa. 

Sansa was the one to comfort me when I lost my first babe, hold my second and I held each nephew and niece that her and Jamie gave me. We both have let each other in, in ways we never would have in what I like to call our first life. 

“He’s always going to come back for you, Arya. He’s died for you so many times and always seemed to make it back, even if it was only to say goodbye.” She squeezed myself to her and I allow the grief and pain a moment before gathering myself back together. 

“If I look back too often I’m lost.” I whisper smiling sadly. 

“Anyway, once we both had our moon blood mother insisted father find us husbands. Pulled the whole the North needs allys when winter hits and how marvelous would it be if you were queen!” I finished in fake cheer. 

Sansa groans and I pat her hand sympathetically. 

“I’m not sure how mother manages to go what she does but all the eligible lords and ladies are coming to Winterfell to have a ball.” 

“Our mother convinced the south to come north for a ball?”

“Yeah, honestly I’m sure she could have convinced the Night King it just wasn’t worth the trouble to kill all life.”

Sansa snorted and I just laughed at my own joke. 

“The wolves?”

“Where found a year ago, everyone was present and accounted for. Mother has them kept in the kennels while we eat and you’ve taken to having lady there while you sleep too.”

“Ghost?”

“Has been growing faster in this life, and has stuck to my and Nymeria’s sides. I catch him looking north every once in a while but he’s stayed at my side. Part of me is happy cause then Jon can contact us if he needs to, or remembers to.”

“No they need to have physical contact for the bond to be that stong again until then it’s more of a pull, and itch you can’t scratch.”

I raise an eyebrow demanding an explanation. 

“Bran told me when I was back the second time becomes lady has survived that life, but never come to me. I felt every pull to my heart but could never find her.”

“I suppose that makes sense, he’s a comfort anyway.”

“ I remember my time at Castle Black, Jon had Ghost with me my whole stay. Protection for the men, he said.”

“And piece of mind for him no doubt.”

“What should we do?”

I raise an eyebrow like mother does and just wait. 

“What!?”

“Winterfell’s Red wolf is asking for political help? Are you sure you’re my sister?”

Sansa shoved me and I rolled back laughing just enjoying messing with my sister; it has been too long. 

“ seriously? You couldn’t help yourself could you!”

“I’m a woman wedded and bedded stuck in a fifteen year old, nearly sixteen and I came back when I was eleven. I haven’t been able to be my whole self in years, give me a break.”

Sansa just huffed back at me. 

“We hunt and wait, it’s all we can do until we know where our husbands are. You still want to marry Ser Jamie? There are more eligible suitors that are closer to your age this time around.”

“He is mine” she practically growls and I grin nodding. 

“I figured, so we make the thought of taming the she wolves of Winterfell as unappealing as possible. We won’t be forced into a marriage because father fears what should happen he tries what his father did. Plus he loves us far too much to see us unhappy with the match.”

“Which leaves Mother.” Sansa ponders “You know if she hadn’t filled my head with songs and stories I don’t think I’d have wanted to marry Joffrey at all. I had it in my head that he would change for me, that he would love me and never hurt me.”

“I’d offer to kill him but I can’t in this life, he is our cousin. I might be many things but I’m not Kinslayer.”

Sansa looked horrified “what!?!”

I nodded “Cersi married Uncle Endure and is Lady Tully of Riverrun. It was punishment for Tywin not taking action during the war and a way to punish Lord Tully for his involvement since he had no real reason to join the rebels until he forced the marriages of his daughters.”

“Which means they will be here for the ball, they have to since it’s family plus Cersi wants the throne and the princess is still an option.”

“This is going to be fun.” I sigh and yawn stretching my arms and cracking my back. 

“Stay here tonight?”

“Always.”

We cuddled and fell asleep soon after, as long as we stayed together we could make it through anything. We’ve already proven that time and time again.


	5. Lost Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to know the dragons a little bit

They say I am the dragon come again; that I am Aegon the conqueror reborn or at least that’s what my father believes. He’s been obsessed with the prophecy of the prince who was promised. 

“A dragon must have three heads my son, your sister you and it was supposed to be my child with a Lyanna but instead he was born a boy. You are still the prince who was promised and you must still save this world so you will marry your aunt Daenerys instead.”

He refused to listen to anyone on this, not grandmother not mother and certainly not me or my sister. Seven Hells he won’t even listen to his own sister, did not acknowledge that this was the same prophecy that delivered his mother at the hands of his father. 

Personally I wanted to know my brother, but every time I approached him I was cut off by either a lady or a lord of the court needing something or wanting something; I was pullled away by one thing or another. Soon the years passed without my knowing or realizing it; soon we were both men grown and I was out of time. Then two years ago he announced to the court that he would take the black and was heading north. Ser Jamie Lannister said he would follow; be his guard and take the black as well.

I still remember the yell of fury that lady Tully let loose at the news. I think Lord Tywin Lannister was about ready to pop a vein and his brother looked horrified. I don’t know what he said when he went to see them later that night but when they returned they did not look as angry just merely frustrated.

I expected father to protest, he denied my brothers request to go north ever since he was a child. But I also recognize that his hands were tied, my brother had no Lord ship in his name and my father, he obviously had not planned for one even with all these years of knowing that his Visenya was a boy. 

I don’t think my father realized how much time has passed since his “ Love of his life“ was taken from him. I think that having a reminder, even if he never paid much attention to Damion, helped the time seem not to pass, not that it saved my brother any humiliation or scorn of the court.

They called him bastard, called him a bastard wolf. The kings guard had taken him in, but as soon as he got better than me the small counsel made him stop, spouting that the second son should never outshine the first born, what would the realm think?! Father never seems to stand up to them, seems to think that if he does he would be just like his father.

Now two years have passed, no letter of him taking his vows had made it to the capital but I just assumed just like everyone else that he just didn’t write. What will be the motivation, we never treated him like a sibling.

I know mother is sad that she had to watch this happen, but she was so hurt by fathers betrayal that she could not bring herself to be a mother to him. She was by no mean cruel and try to lessen the blow of court but she had only so much power.

We just passed the neck and I marvel at the space the North has. Reading about the size in seeing it are two different things. I’ve also read many things about Winterfell since it was announced that the daughters of how stark were eligible to record it. Father hopes that he would be able to bridge the gap between the south and the north with a betrothal but he is unsure of which houses it would be best to join. 

Naturally he would be only able to make a match between his own house but unfortunately he’s already married all of us off. But he plans to exercise his right as king and make a match.

Looking around I wonder if my brother would’ve been happier raised here, in the land of his mother. Surely the wolves of Winterfell would have welcomed him into the pack. The seven know that Lord Eddard Stark tried to get his nephew for years. He only stopped when Father threatened to triple the north’s taxes to the crown. For all the love that he possessed for his nephew he could not afford the increase in tax; You don’t need to know the history of the north to know that it has never been the richest kingdom, for all of the vast landscape it is a very humble nation. 

“ Lost in thought, my son?“ mother asks from the carriage.

“ do you think he would’ve liked it here?“ I hang my head and sigh before dismounting my horse. 

“I think he would’ve thrived come now, come keep me company for a while longer before we set up camp. As much as we wish we could change things we can’t, we can only move forward. That means making sure that his kin are made to feel as much family as we should have made him feel.” Mother embraced me and I sagged against her. 

“ he save my life you know.” She whispered 

Startled I pulled back “what?”

“ when he was about five years old he commented on the potions the master was giving me. Said it smelled just like the flower that uncle Arthur said never to touch. I told him to go get the flowers so we could investigate, thinking it was a mistake but I saw what he was talking about so I did a test. I stopped taking the potion and a little later was more healthy than I’ve been in years. Your Father had that Master stripped of his title and banished from the kingdom. He saved my life but was never recognized for the deed, I tried to shield him when I could but that boy would no stay out of trouble.”

“ he loved getting into trouble, it was the only time I’d see him smile, during a prank.” I remaninced feeling a surge of great fullness to my brother. He saved my mother’s life and I hadn’t even known. 

“Why did father never say?”

“ I believe your father couldn’t bear to look at him, he reminded him of his mother, it was too much to process. He couldn’t bear to lose him to but he also couldn’t bear to look at him.”

“Ready to set up camp?” Father asked ridding up with Ser Aurther and Ser Baristen. 

“Yes father” I bow and gather my own horse to brush down for the night. 

******* Winterfell ******

Riding into Winterfell’s gates I was amazed by the structure, this castle was not built to be pretty but to endure. 

The high, thick grey stone walls have the impression of undefeated protection and unyielding streangth. The inner courtyard was still of activity, the household gathered to greet us. 

I waited for my father to dismount before following behind, the Kingsguard making a loose circle around us, as the rest of the family grouped together to greet the wolves. 

Eddard Stark was a stern looking man, his expression cold and distant. His sharp grey eyes took us in as the whole courtyard bowed as one. 

“Winterfell is your’s, Your Grace.” His voice was cold and detached, no emotion portraying what he thought upon seeing my father once again. 

“Rise, Lord Stark.” Father commanded gesturing for the other to rise as well. 

A servant comes then with bread and salt, an offering of guest rights. 

We all partook and I caught movement at the side of my eye, a furry blob darted from view and I tried to follow but it seemed to disappear as quickly as it had come to my attention. 

“Let me introduce my son and heir, Aegon.” Father gestured to me and I nodded my head to lord Stark. 

“My daughter Rhenerys, Sister Daenerys, and my wife Elia. My mother is back in the capital making sure things stay standing and no doubt filling the small council with fear of the dragon.” Fathers attempt to joke was met with cold stares and the howls of the wind. 

“What of my nephew?” Lord Stark questioned, voice even but I could see a little light in his dark eyes. 

Father looked confused and regarded Lord Stark with confusion. The silence stretched on and even I began to feel the tension rising. 

I stepped forward to reply seeing as father was not going to reply. 

“Damion left for the night’s watch two years past. Surely you’ve heard from him? Your own brother took the black correct Lord Stark?”

Those grey eyes shot to my own and I felt a chill run down my spin at the sheer coldness directed at me. 

“Aye, my prince; my brother Benjin took the black but I have not been informed of any new recruits of Stark blood.”

“He is a Targaryen.” Father snapped fire coating his words as he glared at Lord Stark. 

“He is a Stark.” A new feminine voice growled back, no fear in her tone and all eyes snapped to Lord Stark’s youngest daughter. 

She was beautiful, hair dark brown, steel eyes just like her fathers but on a softer face. She was shorter than her sister but well proportioned, her shoulders where back and her chin was raised. She wore a dark grey gown, a fur cloak around her shoulders and sturdy boots on her feet. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, not just her looks but the fire I saw burning in her gaze as she stared down my father, practically growling in warning for him to back off. 

I heard my father’s breath catch in his throat and a strangled “Lyanna” was whispered.

“Arya!” Lady Stark Gasped her red braid swinging as she rounded on her daughter. “That is not something for you to comment on, young Lady!”

Both Lady Starks stared at each other, neither giving an inch and father was rendered mute and Lord Stark just looked proud of his pup. 

Basically everyone was just silent, waiting for someone to explode or anything. 

Mother stepped forward then, trying to salvage the situation “let us retire before the evening meal! I know I’ve been tired of traveling and could use a soak.”

When no one moved she pointedly stated “Lord and Lady Stark?”

“Yes, Your Grace” 

Everyone that was staying in the castle was escorted to their rooms and soon even the odd situation was pushed into the back of my mind. 

I had a feast to get ready for anyway.


	6. Ser Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sword of the Morning meets our pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me and sorry for the late update. Soon I’m gonna be going away for training for work so I won’t be able to write even longer than I did last time. Your comments are much appreciated and I hope to live up to your expectations. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and can’t wait to hear what you think

Riding into Winterfell I felt remorse at the friend I’d lost in the tower, her son now lost to the wall. I’d tried to take the boy under my wing, even my brother doing the same but non as devoted as Ser Jamie. 

Walking the castle grounds I get a feel for the layout and as I pass a big iron gate that must lead the the Godswood I hear voices. 

Hand near my sword I step forward to investigate. It takes a while but before long I start to make out the voices. 

It’s Lord Stark and his daughters speaking, his son kneeling before the tree in what I assume is prayer. 

“You need to control your wolf blood child.” Lord Stark warned in his solem voice, not the chastising that back talking the king should be but I couldn’t find it in me to really care. 

Arya, his youngest daughter reminded me so much of her aunt that it makes my heart hurt. She has the fire Lya did while she tried to make the best out of being hidden in Dorne. Her fierce protective nature to those she deems pack, her cousin apparently being one of them even if she has yet to meet him. It reminded be of the phrase Lya always muttered to her son while she tried to focus on the future. 

‘When the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. We Starks are a wolf pack, Jon. We might be scattered but the pack survives.’ 

I’d asked how she thought her brother would react to finding out she’d run off with Rhaegar and she had smiled sadly. 

‘He’d say I was pack and that we stick together. He would demand me come home and raise my son within the walls of our home. He’d dare any lord or king to tarnish my name or call my son a bastard and show them just how deadly a quiet wolf could be.’

I’d told her that meeting him I didn’t get the intimidation that I got from her eldest brother. 

‘Ned is far more protective than he lets on, Brandon rushed in, Ned would of gotten me out quietly first then burned the castle to the ground. His nature was always more calculated than rash.’

‘A wild wolf we hear coming, the quiet one has our throat before we can react.’ I’d summarize. 

‘Exactly’

Thinking about Lya hurts but I saw the messages her Ned wrote concerning her son and I had to agree. While he was unsussful in bringing little Dameon here he did manage to make the king’s purse hurt. Demanding supplies for the Nights watch, because how could the king let his great uncle rot in a castle like that? All houses above the neck refusing to pay taxes while the prince was south, daring the souther lords to cross into the north on threat of war. Reminding the King and Dorne that they did not hesitate to go to war then one of their own was threatened when the small council had tried to threaten the prince himself. 

It has taken the threat of taking Lord Starks daughter to the capital that had the tension not ease but not escalate anymore. That had been the last time Lord Stark wrote the King, instead he’d written me to check on his nephew and for a while I thought he’d been joking with some of the letters. They had been signed not with a name but a title Little Wolf. When I asked about them he’d said they where not from him but his daughter but they hadn’t made sense to him either; then one day they just stopped and soon the prince wasn’t at the capital any longer. I’d written to Lord Stark about his dipartcher but it seemed that he had not gotten the letter. 

Now I just watched the family interact and couldn’t help the smile that came to my face. Wolf pack indeed. 

Her sister stand at her side and seems to be shaking, laughter soon ringing into the air. 

“Father, you of all people should know telling Arya not to do something will only make it worse.” The eldest, Sansa I believe, managed between her laughter. 

“Besides she was right, our cousin is as much of a Stark as any of us.” Robb defended his sister moving to his feet after he was done in front of the tree. 

“To the North, and to house Stark he is, to the rest of the world he is a Targaryen. You all know the bloodlines are traced by the father’s house and as much as I wish it were not so, Rhaegar is Dameon’s father.”

“Jon” Arya corrected stunning me, how did she know the prince’s name that his mother gave him. 

I watched Lord Stark stare at his youngest in surprise, obviously shocked at her confidence. 

“Who told you to call him that?” He demanded worry coloring his words and as he did a sweep of the area we locked eyes. 

I inclined my head in greeting and shrugged my shoulders at his questioning look, I had not told her about Dameon’s true name and from his reaction neither had he. 

“Jon did, two years ago before he went beyond the wall.” Arya stated her voice proud as she follows her fathers gaze and looks at me as well. 

Lord Stark grabs her shoulders to get her to focus back on him. 

“What!”

“Father!” Robb the eldest protests seeing his father grab his sister and soon he is standing in front of her with lord Stark looking pale and sickly. 

“Lya’s Boy is beyond the wall?” He brokenly whispers heading to the tree and collapsed against its white bark. 

The siblings look at each other before following and I leave them be; heading into the keep. 

We failed Lyanna and her son, I feel like a failure as a knight. Had he felt at home in the keep maybe he would have stayed, hells even the Night Watch would have been better but beyond the wall. All I could think of where what I knew of Wildlings, they riveted the Dothraki in seer brutality. The reports from Lord Stark making notes on the hundreds killed when they breach the wall. While I knew Jamie was with Dameon but he is only one man, two against many will never end well. 

In my chambers I break down, throwing my armor against the wall and tears pouring down my face. Verbally I’m silent but soon I hear a knock and Oswell is pulling me into a hug. 

He doesn’t ask; just holds me as I fall apart. 

**** Feast later that Night *******

I can’t find the strength to face the Starks, so instead I walk the training yard and smile at the messy swords and half destroyed training dummies. 

I imagine Dameon growing up here, feeling the cold bite his face as he clashed with his cousins, scaring the younger ones when he could and smiling as freely as he did while training with me. 

He’d be a wise man, absorbing anything he could get his hands on, just as he did while at the Red Keep. The library here rivaling that of the one in The Cidadel, the books of Kings and a house eight thousand years old. The wild land would allow him to race his horse like he tried to do while in the cramped castle, he’d spend all day on horse back, coming back only when the moon shone its light. 

Running a hand down the stall door near the kennels I pause when I hear movement far to large to be a hound. Confused, I push on the door and peer inside, my heart stops. 

Five pairs of yellow eyes stare at me and as I inch back I see a new set of eyes open. These were blood red and I can make out the silhouette of a wolf in the dark. 

Fear grips my heart and I reach for my dagger, cursing myself for leaving my sword in my room. 

As my hand nears the dagger a low growl starts up, soon one is many and I know this is going to be a hell of a fight. 

I tense and jump when a hand lands on my shoulder. 

“Easy” a heavily accented Nortner voice warns. “They respond to threats, so don’t be one.”

I drop my hand and the growls trail off. 

“Ghost, GreyWind, Shaggy, Summer, Lady, Nymeria Stay.” The same voice demands pulling us both back and shutting the door with his final word. 

“Thank you.” I acknowledge eyes still trained on the door. 

“No problem, Uncle Art.” The voice laughs. 

Startled, I snapped my gaze to the man and I felt my breath catch. 

He’s older and broader than I last saw him but Dameon now stood in front of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to see you guys soon and again love all comments and feedback.


	7. 🐍 or 🐉 who is she?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Authur missed quite the party! 
> 
> Rhaynes has some feelings about her new eye candy and we get a glimpse into her mind.

Rhaenys felt lost in the Northern feast around her, she looked to her parents and felt pity. Her father stated after the young Arya Stark like she was her aunt reborn. Then her mother would glare at their father and throw pity looks at the same girl. Even Aegon was staring at her, her little brother as entrapped as her father. 

What was it about this woman that had their heads in a spin? She wasn’t that striking or beautiful! Seven help me she was plain compared to her sister! 

Sansa Stark was a goddess made of flesh. 

Those flaming red locks matching her full lips, her bright blue eyes like the brightest day in Dorne. Her skin was so pale it looked porcelain! Her laughter sounded like bells in the wind. The dark grey dress beautifully conveys her curves and highlights her bust without being revealing in the least. 

My eyes locked with every twitch she makes and I found myself wanting to know how she sounds at the height of pleasure. 

I wanted to know what her eyes did while she was driven by lust, did they darken? Did she bare her teeth or whimper for mercy? I wanted to feel her thighs tighten around my head as she begs for more. I want to hold on to her hair and yank her to me, demanding her to please her princess. I want her hands bound and unable to get away, I want her at my mercy and begging for more. I want her hands on my body, her lips on my breasts sucking my nipples. I want her to have to cover my marks on her body, explain why her thighs are covered in bruises, why her sheets are ruined every night of our visit. 

I swallow the wine in my cup and shake the thoughts from my head. This girl was family at one point in time, the cousin of my half brother. He would not want me to fantasize about her, he’d get all protective and warn me away. Well aware that I held no interest in my own betrothal, to my brother anyway. My aunt and I have gotten along quiet fine for the past five years. If by thought alone I felt her hand gliding up my knee as she sat beside me. 

“What has your mind so destroyed my love?” She whispered, keeping up her false smile for the crowd. Her eyes however are full of fire and desire, her grip sure and assertive. 

“Me, I hope?” She ventured as she rounds my thigh causing some wine to spill before I right my grip.

“Always' ' I agree not bothering to hide my smile, we were betrothed after all it was only right we get along. The world did not have to know that when we all were wed that I’d be visiting her chambers far more than my brother. Dany would be the only one of us to bear his children, I had no desire to continue our family’s line; not with my brother, perhaps with another man but the close producing incest would stop. 

Once when I was young I felt the desire for my brother but I soon found the thought unbearable. Once I regarded my grandmother stories from images long buried in my mind I felt sick at the thought. 

I was old enough to remember my grandfather and his madness. I remember the screams, the flinches, the hateful words and the sad faces. His family hates him, hated what he did and I never wanted to be near him. I found comfort in my mother, grandmother and Ser Jamie who always seemed to get between me and the old King. 

He was who I missed most when my half brother left, Ser Jamie was safe, he would hold me when I cried as a child and who I felt closest to. Dameon stole that from me, he took my safety net and somehow made it his own. 

I don’t even know when it happened but one day Dameon was who Ser Jamie followed, who he protected and who he seemed to care about. I was old news and I felt betrayed. I’d just gotten the news that I’d be marring my aunt and brother and my King’s guard wouldn’t pay attention. Instead all he cared about was Dameon, was he mad? I just got told the worst news and he left me alone!

I feel my resentment flare it head and I drink more wine, it has been two years but my heart won’t let him go. 

I’d fantasize about him as a girl, wishing he’d let the white cloak go to marry me. He’d take me to Castly Rock and I’d bear his children, we would have a family and I’d be safe and loved. I’d give him my heart and he would treat me like the treasure I am, not caring if I was as wild as my Dorneish relatives. He want me to fight, he’d demand it even! He’d be rough with me in bed, knowing I could handle it. I’d take him for rides for hours, drunk off his desire for me. 

We would have lots of children because we wouldn’t keep our hands off each other! Much like the five Stark children, we’d have them beat by at least two. They would have my temper and his looks, we would be so proud of each of them; no matter who they loved. We would share a third woman and perhaps it would even be Dany. 

Commotion erupted at the entrance of the hall and I found my attention, like everyone else’s, drawn to it. 

My breath caught; Ser Jamie Lannister stood proud and perfect in the light. 

His blonde hair shaved close to his head, his green eyes bright and alert; sweeping around the room and then they locked on someone. I didn’t bother trying to find who, it was probably my father and I have better things to look at. 

He was dressed in a fur cloak and sturdy boots with pants that hugged his thighs. New scars where on his cheek and went down his neck, like someone had wounded him badly and he just barley escaped. It was jagged and a few tones lighter than his tanned skin. He also had a scar on his left hand, like a lightning bolt down from the wrist. Each new discovery made note by my mind and I felt my inner muscles clench in desire. He was as muscled and broad, scarred and handsome as my fantasy but even better was that he was here. 

He stood now in the center of the room and I allowed nothing to destruct me from him, not even Dany’s nails gripping too tightly to me. 

“Your Graces” he bowed his head in acknowledgment to my parents but did not get on his knees like proper etiquette demanded. 

“Ser Jamie” mother greeted before allowing her eyes to sweep the room “is your charge not with you?”

I hear the desperation in her flat tone and feel sad for her, she always did like Dameon. 

“Jon is outside, your Grace.” He answered and seemed to brace himself. 

It wasn’t long to figure out why. 

“Who gave you permission to utter that name!” Father boomed in his Kingly voice. “My son is named Dameon Targaryen and he will be addressed as such!”

All chatter stopped and not even a cricket could be heard. 

Everyone waited on baited breath to hear what Ser Jamie had to say to that; for him to agree and drop it. 

Instead there was laughter; small at first then booming as loud as it could from Arya Stark’s mouth. 

“Silence!” Father roared face going red from anger and embarrassment no doubt. 

When Arya continued to laugh and ignore the King, Ser Oswell made a shift to grab the girl. 

Ser Jamie drew his sword, eyes blazing in warning. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you Oswell.”

Oswell stopped and stared at his former brother and I felt heat erupt in my core at the fierce display in front of me. 

Father stood from his chair in outrage, slamming it back with a thud. “You dare draw your steel in front of your King!?”

Ser Jamie stood firm and did not lower his blade “You are no longer my King. I serve The King beyond The Wall and hold no loyalty to any but him and his.”

“Tell us then” mother demanded, her Queen voice high so all could hear “what is the name of your King?”

“King Jon Targaryen, King beyond the Wall and Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. The White Wolf, Northern Dragon, Bringer of the Dawn and Winter’s Bite.”

A hush fell around the hall and still Ser Jamie did not lower his blade. 

“What?” Lord Stark asked seeming to be the first to recover from the shock just delivered. “My Nephew is alive? He’s here! Jorey!”

“My Lord?”

“Go get him! Bring him here!” Lord Stark demanded desperately. 

I registered the pain in my leg as Dany but as the news settled even she let go in shock. 

Dameon was alive, he was here and so was my forbidden love, whom I thought lost. I don’t care that I look like a fool but I feel tears leak down my face. 

“Rae?” Dany asked panicked at my display her soft hands framing my face. 

I just shake my head and lean into her, so happy I could burst.


	8. Lion's Bride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we visit Sansa once more, who's toes are going to get stepped on????

Sansa watched her husband walk into the hall, made notes on each new injury and felt her heart nearly stop when he drew his blade, his warning clearly stated. 

I hadn’t seen the King’s Guard move but as I felt the air move close to my shoulder as I felt how close he had actually gotten. I feel every hair on my body stand on end, Jamie knows how I feel around those in white cloaks. The days as Joffery’s hostage and Cersi’s plaything made the very symbol a source of fear for me. 

I know that is what caused him to draw his sword, not any fear of what would happen to Arya because of her laughter. By the old gods he’d be more worried about helping hide the body than any damage coming onto her. 

Not to mention the backlash that should fall upon the man if Jon had found out. They’d skewer him together and bond over the damn thing, or feed him to Nymeria and Ghost. 

I lock eyes with my husband and enjoy the way those emerald green eyes soften and promise protection while conveying his love even now. I feel the love I hold for him shine in my own eyes and I suddenly cannot wait for this night to end. 

I needed to get him alone and talk, it’s been so long since I could talk to him, feel him and even kiss him. I want to make sure he still wants this, me. I wanted to strangle the king for daring to raise his voice in my home, to my husband. He was a guest and he had no right to speak to the lord of this castle like that!

But he wasn’t lord of this castle, not in this life. I lose steam in that argument but the point still stands damn it!

I sense Ser Oswell as Jamie called him to move back and soon Jamie’s sword was sheathed as well. Arya tensed beside me and I know she’s controlled her expression so that nothing is given away but she cannot help the clench of her fists when we hear the door close. 

The noise in the hall becomes a humm to me as I stare into Jamie’s eyes, lost in them as I soak in the knowledge that he is indeed here. 

All I could think of was the last I saw him, nearly this young and my gaze dropped to his right hand. I chuckle to myself as I see the almost protective way he carries that side. He’d lost that hand more than he has been able to keep it and I’m sure he’s just as determined to keep it this life as he was the last. In one of our lives he’d been forced to hold his child with one hand when they had grown and I knew it broke his heart that he never got to throw them up and catch them safely. 

The ruckus grew silent and I watched as Ser Aurthur walked into the room followed by Jon. Taking in his features I’m not surprised that his nearly black hair is nearly to his shoulders, some braids to keep it off his face but left wild. His grey eyes a shade too dark to not show the nearly indigo tints, his left eye has the same scar as the first life. He is taller, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jamie, his gait is slightly off; probably a healing injury on the right side. His pale skin showing some signs of snow burn, but it was a week old if I had to guess, there were bruises along his neck, what could be seen anyway. 

“Damion, I’m so happy to see y-“

“‘I go by Jon now.” His voice was the deep Northern draw that It has been in the last life. His voice was the deep northern draw that it had been in our past, even if he’d grown up south in this life.

“Son, you have a name; Your grandmother named you Damion and that is what your name is as decreed by the King and Former Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” Rhaegar placated like he was speaking to a child of five years.

Jon’s shoulders drew back, his chest raised and chin held high to show just by poster how serious his next words were. “Your Grace, My mother named me Jon and that is the name I chose to bear, you have no say in what I call myself or what I answer to. I have lived your life for the majority of my own and I refuse to do so any longer. As you have no doubt found out, I have not taken the vows of the Night’s Watch. Neither has Ser Jamie, we have instead explored beyond the wall for the last three years. I have proven myself a man in the Free Folk’s ways as well as our own south of the wall. I have earned every scar, every ache and ever single title that I carry. Your second son has become King of a people that hold no loyalty to outsiders, and instead of a welcome home like a Prince deserves we argue about my name? This is a joke and I shall call it a night.”

He bows to Father, “Uncle, I sincerely wish to talk with you in the morning and learn about our history. I have had the chance with Uncle Benjin and my great uncle Amen at the wall but hopefully you have much better Ale.”

The Northern Lords chuckle at this and seem to agree with that statement and I can't help but laugh as well. No matter how long it's been since I've tasted the ale at castle black I still taste the horrible liquid.

The feast closes not long after they part and I feel Arya’s pressense slip away. She no doubt has followed them and I cannot blame her, I wish I could but she has far more practice disappearing than I do.

Instead I'm forced to watch the aftermath of Jon’s last speech and I cannot help but feel someone’s eyes on me. It's been like that the whole feast but when I look around I cannot decide who has been staring. I saw Baslish’s slimy figure make his way here when the King’s court was settled. I wonder how long he will last this time around? Who will have the pleasure of killing him off?

Jon?

Jamie?

Arya?

ME?

The wolves?

Should he enter into their den I have no doubt that they would make short work of the weasel of a man. Then the King cannot even do anything because he was the one who was wandering around Stark property without an escort and snooping.

I can feel the connection with Lady get a little flared, which happens when she's excited and I briefly get the feeling of Home and Pack. The wolves must be in for the night and have settled down to sleep in the puppy pile.

Deciding I've had enough for tonight I find my father and tell him i'm going to retire for the night. He wishes me a good night and kisses my cheek. 

I laugh at the ticklish feeling of his beard scratching my cheek and nod to mother before leaving the hall behind.

Walking down my hallway I scream when I feel arms snatch my waist and a hand forced itself onto my mouth to keep me quiet.

Going for my hidden dagger I hold it to my attackers throat as he has me pressed to the wall, our breathing mixing from how close his mouth is to mine.

“You have sharp fangs, my beautiful red wolf,” Jamie’s green eyes are smiling down at me as I glare at him.

“Not funny!” I growl once he releases my mouth. Lowering my blade I registered his smirk in time to catch the kiss he aimed for my cheek to my lips.

I moan and deepen the kiss loving the taste that is pure Jamie, and pull him to me with the hilt of my blade at the back of his skull.

“You've kept your wife waiting, dear husband.” I nip at his bottom lip feeling excitement rush through my body when his eyes darken.

“That will not do.” He responds in kind and I feel him melt against me as we continue to kiss in the little cove off the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments help me find direction when Im lost, I love each and every comment and I cannot wait to hear from YOU all!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Please let me know what you think!


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